


Oh the Canvas Can Do Miracles

by Celeste6



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, I'm Not Ashamed, Inspired by Music, Light Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celeste6/pseuds/Celeste6
Summary: A vacation sounded like a good idea. Doing something fun on his vacation sounded like a good idea. Being on a small ship for several hours with a group of other people? That was starting to sound less and less like a good idea, until he meets the crew of the Winter Star.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 24
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

"Well, it's not far down to paradise, at least it's not for me  
And if the wind is right you can sail away and find tranquility  
Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see.  
Believe me.  
\--Sailing, Christopher Cross"

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. 

Or, at least, it seemed like a good enough idea to get Sam and Nat to give him a break about doing something fun on his forced vacation. Steve would have been happy - delighted, even - to do nothing but sit on the deck at the little inn he was staying at for the next week. But no, he was supposed to get out, enjoy himself, and maybe even meet a few people.

It was that last bit that was giving him trouble.

“You’re going to be cold, you know. It’s at least ten degrees cooler out on the water.” She looked around five years older than Steve, for all that was worth. Steve couldn’t figure out if she was hitting on him or mothering him. With no ring and two young teenagers close by, it could’ve gone either way.

Steve smiled his bland Captain America smile and tugged his Dodgers ball cap a little lower on his head. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” He was standing in a restaurant parking lot, next to a truck with a sign for the tall ship tour he’d signed up for propped up against the open tailgate. A young couple, also part of the tour, stood nearby taking selfies and ignoring everyone else. 

“I know it feels hot right now,” the woman continued. And it did, in the paved parking lot with the asphalt reflecting the heat from the June sun. “But the wind on the water makes things really chilly.”

The amateur meteorologist and her two daughters rounded out the rest of the tour group. Steve couldn’t tell if they knew who he was; he’d left the Rogers part of his name off when he bought the ticket and when he’d introduced himself to the others waiting for the sailing trip. He tried using the alternate name some when he wanted to be anyone other than Captain America. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn’t. 

Suddenly tired beyond the telling, he mumbled an excuse and made to go back to his bike. Sure he’d promised Nat that he’d try something new and Sam that he’d interact with other people, but surely they’d both understand that he couldn’t do the platitudes and politeness required by spending three hours in close quarters with five other people.

“Oh, I hope he’s on our trip.” Steve looked up at the woman’s voice and saw a dark-haired man walking toward them. He ducked his head and tried not to look too closely; at first glance, though, he couldn’t help but agree. Natasha was always bugging him about his type, and while Steve had never put too much thought into it, on the surface level at least, this guy pretty much ticked all the boxes.

It wasn’t that he was stunningly beautiful. It wasn’t the chiseled jawline or the admittedly great hair that Steve’s fingers itched to touch. It might have been the defined muscles he could see under other man’s dark long-sleeved henley and jeans; even before the serum, Steve hadn’t been bothered by men who were stronger than he was, since that was pretty much all of them. Since then, he appreciated people he couldn’t break into two.

Most of all, though, it was the easy strut, the confidence, and holy Mary mother of god, that mouth. Steve got a better look as the man clearly headed for their little group. Bad, bad things could be done by, to, and with that mouth and Steve wanted to be part of all of them.  
“Good afternoon and welcome!” 

And sure, Steve was hoping that the voice would match the mouth, but Jesus, he wasn’t expecting it to go straight to his dick. He also wasn’t expecting to be so utterly annoyed by the enthusiastic greeting. There’s no way anyone was actually that happy to see this group. 

“My name is James. I’m going to get everyone checked in and then we’ll walk down to the boat.”

The mom and daughters group sidled up to James. “Are you the captain?”

Steve flinched, but no one seemed to notice.

James smiled at the three women and looked at a clipboard in his hand. “You must be Emma, Lucy, and Amanda. You ladies are all set. We’re so glad you could join us today.” His voice was all good cheer and light flirtation. “And no, my sister is the captain of the Winter Star. She’s going to be delighted to see we have such a capable crew today.” He winked at the two girls.

“Mark and Lisa?” James asked, already looking at the couple, who nodded back. “We just need to take care of your ticket payment.” 

Mark dug out his wallet and handed some cash over to James, who took it and tucked it in an envelope and secured it under the clip. Mark’s eyes went wide. “Dude, what happened to your hand?”

Steve wasn’t sure how he’d missed the glint of metal on Bucky’s left side. It’s possible he’d been distracted. But now he took a closer, considering look. Even under the long sleeves, he could see that the prosthetic was more than just a hand. 

Mark wouldn’t stop talking. “Man, that’s badass. You’re, like, part Borg.”

James only smiled wider. “You’ve heard of Captain Hook from Peter Pan?” The others nodded and James leaned in like he was going to let them in on a secret. “Same thing. I just got a better arm out of it.” He then laughed, letting the others laugh with him 

And now Steve recognized it. He’d used that same voice on stages and radio shows across the country, that smile on politicians, that laugh on people he didn’t care to know better. This was James as performing monkey, ready to charm the ticket holders. 

Steve didn’t like that at all.

James checked off the couple, deftly avoiding any other questions about his arm, then looked at Steve and asked, “Steven Grant?” 

And, yeah, that voice. Steve tried to resist the impulse to stand at attention and raised his hand instead. “That’s me.”

Storm-blue eyes met his, then blinked once slowly. Steve couldn’t tell if there was recognition in his look. 

“Okay, then.” James gestured toward the water. “Since everyone’s here, if you’ll all head down to the dock, we’ll do the safety talk on board.”

Steve waited for the others to go in front of him. Part of it was innate politeness, part of it was wanting to stay out of their sightlines as much as possible. Nat had told him that no reasonably intelligent person would be fooled by the ball cap or the still-new beard, even if they absolutely didn’t expect to see him in Maine, of all places. 

Maybe this whole thing had been a bad idea after all.

“Hey, I know it can be a little weird to be the single person on a cruise, with all the little friends and family groups,” James’ voice startled Steve. “Usually everybody bonds, but if you’d rather, you’re welcome to spend your time with me or Becca. We might put you to work, but I promise we won’t make you engage in forced merriment.” 

Steve nodded, a little surprised that James knew what he was thinking. He didn’t say anything, just started moving. As he walked past the other man, Steve heard the intake of breath and wasn’t sure if James was going to comment on his identity or his short sleeves, so he chose the least annoying of the two to respond to, tossing out a clipped “I promise, I won’t get cold” over his shoulder. 

The response was a snort. “Mm-hm. I was going to ask if you brought sunscreen. The hat will help, but the sun can be a bitch on the water.”

Oh. Well, now Steve just felt like an ass. He stopped and turned to face James. “Ah, no. I usually don’t worry about sunburn either.”

A dark eyebrow arched. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t burn easily? With that skin?” James asked and Steve thought maybe that the guy knew exactly who he was. 

“I, um, just don’t spend a lot of time in the sun.” It was obviously, awkwardly not true. He hadn’t growing up, of course. Too sickly to be outside much, even more so in the oppressive Brooklyn summer heat. But now he just didn’t care since any sunburn healed quickly.

James shook his head and brushed past him, but Steve caught his mouth quirk up in a tiny grin. “Well, I guess I know who brought the stupid in today’s group. Let’s go, sunshine. I’ve got some on board that you can use.”

Steve was caught for a moment by the change in James’ tone. This was the real James. Snarky, direct, happy to call Steve on his shit.

And yeah, charming asshole was abso-fucking-lutely Steve’s type.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's not far to never-never land, no reason to pretend  
And if the wind is right you can find the joy of innocence again  
Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see.  
Believe me."  
\--Sailing, Christopher Cross 

James’ sister Becca met them as they walked the gangplank onto the two-masted ship. She greeted each of them with a smile and a nod, then got right down to business, explaining all about schooners and sailing around the islands and what they’d see during the cruise. Then she explained their safety procedures, when they could stand up or move around, what to do in the unlikely event they went overboard. Steve hadn’t participated in such a concise, comprehensive briefing since 1945.

As Becca started the small engine that would power them until they were outside the harbor, James encouraged everyone to look around a bit before they needed to sit down.

The six passengers made their way toward the front of the boat, taking pictures and getting comfortable. As he took a seat that left plenty of room between him and the rest of the group, Steve heard Becca and James quietly discuss the sailing conditions as James started to coil rope and tuck it away on deck.

“And, Bucky, the wind is going to be interesting today. Let’s keep everyone seated once the sails are up so the boom doesn’t get them.” Becca said.

“Copy that.”

James - Bucky, he liked that better - slipped in front of Steve as he continued his work while the ship cut through the water. Steve couldn’t resist saying, “I thought the proper response to a naval CO was aye, captain.”

Bucky grinned at him. “Becca’s a lenient commanding officer. She kindly overlooks the fact that I spent too long in the Army to ever respond like a squid.”

Steve grinned back. “I never really got the hang of all the yes, sirs.”

“Now why does that not surprise me? You must have been hell on your CO.”

Steve shrugged. “After a while, he mostly let me do my own thing. Then we got along just fine.”

Bucky handed him a length of rope. “Here, hold that tight.”

Steve did as he was told. “What am I holding?”

“I’m getting ready to raise the main sail as soon as we get out of the channel. You’re holding it in place right now.” Bucky stepped around him and then leaned down to take the rope from Steve, definitely getting into Steve’s personal space.

“Sorry. It’s always close quarters on the boat, even when we have a small group like this.”

Steve took a shot in the dark. “That’s okay… Bucky.”

He got a sigh in return, and Bucky didn’t look at him. “Of course you heard that.”

“Bucky and Becca. It’s cute.”

Another sigh. “James Buchanan Barnes. It’s a mouthful and a terrible president and Becca gave me the nickname when we were kids.”

“Is she the only person that calls you that?”

“No. I’m James to the tourists and my parents and Bucky to everyone else.”

“Which category do I fall into?” Steve asked, trying not to sound hopeful. Or desparate. 

Bucky studied him for a long second. “We’ll see.”

The air fell silent as Becca cut off the engine. “Raise the aft sail,” she called out.

Bucky eyed Steve’s arms. “You gonna help me raise the sails?”

Steve couldn’t help himself; he flexed just a little. “Tell me what to do.”

Bucky pointed Steve to a spot below a set of ropes and stood behind him, manhandling him just the tiniest bit to get him into place. First, it was Bucky’s hands on Steve’s waist pushing him forward and then turning him to the right. Then it was Bucky’s leg sliding between his to kick his feet out wider.

“Plant your feet so you’re steady,” Bucky said. “If you fall overboard, I’m not coming in after you.”

Before Steve could snark back, Bucky grabbed his wrist, pulled his arm up and then slid his palm flat against the back of Steve’s hand. 

It was exquisite torture. Steve wanted to lean into Bucky, but he was keenly aware that there were other people around, that Bucky was a virtual stranger. That Bucky almost certainly received advances from other guests, like the woman eyeing both of them from the other side of the ship, and he’d learned how to be polite while people assumed his attractiveness was for their benefit.

And maybe Steve was kidding himself, but it felt like there was something different in how Bucky was treating him. There was nothing inappropriate; it wasn’t intimate, but it wasn’t impersonal either. If he had to put a word to it, Steve thought it would be kindness.

“When I give the word, pull hand over hand,” Bucky said, wrapping Steve’s right hand around the rope. Bucky then leaned forward and around, contorting himself to grab Steve’s other hand with his flesh hand instead of his metal one. 

Steve shook his head and blocked Bucky’s right arm with his shoulder. “I don’t mind,” he said evenly. 

Bucky huffed, but leaned around Steve’s left side instead and used his metal hand to wrap Steve’s left hand about a foot below his right hand. 

“The key is to never let completely go,” Bucky said. “It’ll be easy at first, but once the sails get about halfway up, they get heavy. Tell me if you need to stop, but don’t let go of the rope.”

Steve looked up, judging the sails. “I think I can handle it.”

Bucky’s voice was amused. “Yeah, I’m sure you can, but just in case. You drop that sail and Becca will make us both swim back to shore.”

“Um, James?” One of the teenagers was waving to get his attention. “Can we help with the sails, too?”

“You bet, my friend. How about you and your sister help me with the other set of ropes?”

Both girls nodded. As they clambered over the middle of the boat, Steve tried to joke with them. “So, we gonna race?”

The older girl, Lucy, nodded eagerly and said, “Oh, it’s on.”

Bucky knocked Steve’s shoulder with his own, none too gently, as he moved to the other set of ropes. “No, Steven. There will be no racing.” He pointed to Emma. “In fact, your job is to make sure he,” Bucky jerked his thumb back at Steve, “goes at the same speed we do so we don’t twist up the sails.”

Becca spoke up from the stern of the boat where she stood behind the wheel. “Mess up the sails and we make you walk the plank!”

Steve looked at Emma with wide eyes, playing scared. “Emma, I think you better help me out. I do not want to walk the plank.”

She giggled and Steve caught another hint of a grin from Bucky as the girl grabbed the rope below Steve’s hands. “Okay, team approach. We do this together. I’ll sing a sea shanty to keep us all in time.”

“Oh no, not the sea shanty,” Becca yelled. “Quick, somebody push him overboard!”

“Hey, my sea shanty singing is exquisite.” Bucky winked at the girls, who were both laughing at the adults’ antics. Then he looked up and grinned at Steve.

Steve grinned back. And then realized he was having fun. 

He was so stuck by the thought that he almost missed Bucky’s order to start pulling. Only Emma’s whispered, “Steve!” pulled him back to the present. They got the sails raised without anyone having to walk the plank and Steve gave Emma a high five and a sincere “Thanks, partner,” before she rejoined her mom on the other side of the ship.

Bucky, on his way to the ship’s bow, paused and smirked as he passed Steve. “Well, you certainly aren’t my parents. I’m comfortable calling you not a tourist.”

It took Steve’ brilliant strategic mind a long second to catch up. “Does that mean I’m an everyone else?”

Bucky hummed noncommittally. “It means you can call me Bucky.”

Steve went to find his seat, feeling lighter than he had in ages. 

He did spend some time chatting with the others after all. The girls charmingly pestered him with questions, none of which had anything to do with his day job. They asked where he lived (D.C. but also sometimes in New York), if he had any sisters (no, sadly, because sisters were great, which got him a high-five from Becca), what music he liked (old people music, which was funny because it was true), and if he’d ever been on a boat before (yes, but it had been a long time ago, and it had been a different kind of boat). 

When the girls drifted away, Steve found himself next to Bucky again. 

“You have terrible opsec, Steve,” Bucky said, leaning on the railing. There was a slight hesitation before his name and Steve was almost certain Bucky had been about to end his sentence with a military-sounding “Rogers” instead.

It was a risk, but he was tired and almost certain Bucky already knew who he was. “Like I said, army protocol was never my thing.” 

“Yeah, well, don’t give away the store.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know.”

Bucky just stared at him.

Steve huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine. I’m not a complete idiot.”

That earned him a wicked grin and Steve had to grab onto the railing to keep from reaching for Bucky.

“Can I ask what you did, in the Army?” Steve flailed mentally, trying to land on a safe topic.

Bucky nodded slowly. “Mostly, I was a sniper. Served with the 75th, 1st Battalion.”

Steve went through his mental files. “You’re a Ranger?”

Bucky smiled and Steve recognized the unique mix of sadness and regret and relief. “I was, yeah. I’ve been out for a few years now.” Steve glanced at Bucky’s prosthetic and Bucky nodded. “Hard to hold a rifle when you only have one arm, and by the time I got this one, I was done with that life.”

Steve was careful not to show anything that Bucky might interpret as pity. He squinted at the metal and said, “To be fair, I can’t speak to the part about the… Borg, was it? But your new arm is kinda badass.”

Bucky snorted in what Steve hoped was pleasant surprise. “God, you are a pain.”

Steve grinned. “Says you and half of New York City.”

Bucky grinned back. “That I believe.” 

There was a moment of comfortable quiet; Steve basked in the sun and the weird feeling in his gut that his thought might possibly be happiness. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Bucky glance at him. Steve decided not to push him, but Bucky surprised him again.

“When I lost the arm, I didn’t want to accept the fact that I was out,” Bucky said in a low voice. “I kept looking for a way back in. Desk duty, even, while they figured out a prosthetic that could replace a functioning arm. I even volunteered for some crazy experimental project for replacement limbs.”

Bucky’s sidelong look at him had a tangible weight, but Steve kept his face forward and his expression bland. “I might be familiar with that feeling.”

One corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in what, if Steve were feeling generous, might be called a smirk. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” 

And Steve might have stopped him there, might have confessed, but just then Mark and Lisa, clinging to the starboard rail, waved to get Bucky’s attention. Steve watched as Bucky’s professional face dropped over him like a veil, and because Steve was indeed a pain in the ass, he couldn’t resist poking at that persona. Bucky gave him a puzzled look as Steve straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the rail. Steve took a step away and pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the others.

“I’m gonna go mingle. Give me a shout if you need a hand. Just yell for Smee.” He pointedly looked at Bucky’s arm and then gave him the most bland, innocent look he’d ever been able to conjure. 

It took Bucky a second to get it; Steve felt a thrill of pleasure shoot through him when he saw the recognition in Bucky’s eyes. And then that charming professional face cracked into a genuinely gleeful grin that blinded Steve so much he almost tripped on the ropes as he turned.

As he untangled himself, he wondered if he’d get a chance to tell Bucky that his mother had taken him to see J.M. Barrie’s play when he was 10. He hadn’t liked it, even though he tried to draw the sets from memory for months after, because he couldn’t identify with Peter’s desire to never grow up. Back then, all he’d wanted was to grow up.

And now… well, now he could hear the laughter in Bucky’s voice as he chatted with the other passengers. He’d managed to grow up against all odds, but he was still trying to figure out who he wanted to be. 

Steve thought maybe being first mate instead of captain might be a nice change.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the panic attack mentioned in the tags. And angst before the happy ending, because apparently I can't write anything without some angstiness.

"Sailing takes me away to where I've always heard it could be  
Just a dream and the wind to carry me  
And soon I will be free"  
\--Sailing, Christopher Cross

Steve found himself sitting next to Becca in the ship’s helm while Bucky pointed out landmarks to the others from the bow. Becca was studying a map and Steve looked over her shoulder trying to figure out what the markings meant.

Becca slid the map over so he could see it better. “See the numbers here?” She tapped the dark blue numbers on the paper. “That’s the channel depth. We’re basically sailing in the middle of a bunch of hills; the valleys are filled with water, but they’re not all the same size.”

Steve hmmmed. “I guess running aground would be bad form.”

Becca laughed. “We try not to do that, yeah.” She stood up and crooked a finger at him. “Come stand here,” she said, pointing to the wheel. Steve obeyed. “Put your hands at 10 and 2. We’re going to make another turn here and you’re going to steer.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

She patted his arm. “It’ll be fine. When I give the word, turn the wheel to the left. It’s not like a car, you’ll need to turn more than you think and hold the wheel there.” She glanced up at the flag on top of the main mast. “Ready?”

“Yes ma’am.” 

Becca grinned and yelled, “Ready about!”

Steve watched Bucky snap to and get everyone seated out of the way of the boom. “Ready!” he shouted back to his sister.

“Hard port,” Becca said to Steve and he followed her instructions. It was a strange sensation, feeling the ship shift in the water. At first it didn’t seem like they were changing direction, but the boom snapped to the other side and the wind caught the sails and they were leaning just a bit. It was exhilarating.

“Okay, ease back.” Steve didn’t exactly let go, but he loosened his grip and let the wheel slide through his hands until Becca nodded. “Nice job. We might make a sailor of you yet.” 

Steve hated the fact that his fair skin didn’t hide any blush whatsoever. He wasn’t used to getting praise; when you worked with a bunch of people with exceptional skills, being that good was the baseline. He tried to hide it by staring out over the water and letting Becca take the wheel back. 

“I didn’t expect to like it so much,” he heard himself say.

Becca nodded, like that wasn’t a surprise. “You haven’t spent much time on the water, have you?”

Steve shook his head. Technically, the answer was a no. In it, yes, but he couldn’t say that outloud. “I don’t suppose the Staten Island ferry counts?”

Becca chuckled. “Considering that’s the only boat some New Yorkers ever get on? Sure, I’ll allow it.”

“How long have you and Bucky been sailing?” Steve wanted to turn the conversation away from him and Becca let him.

“Since we were kids. One of our aunts had a house on the Long Island Sound, and we’d spend weeks in the summer there with her. She and her partner had a small sailboat; there were days where the four of us would go out at sunrise and didn’t come home til dark, just sailing wherever the wind took us.”

“That sounds like a perfect way to grow up.” Steve knew he sounded wistful; almost 80 years might have passed since her death, but it had only been 12 years or so for him, and he felt every single one of those days as a hole in his heart. He cleared his throat before he got too maudlin. “It must be really nice, getting to work with family now.”

Becca laughed softly. “On the days we don’t want to kill each other, sure. I love him dearly, but he is, on occasion, an absolute asshole.”

Before he could stop himself, Steve grinned at her and said, “Are you trying to warn me off him?”

Becca laughed again, loud enough that Bucky gave them a look from the other end of the ship. Steve blushed bright red and really, really hoped that it looked like a sunburn to everybody else. 

Steve stammered, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Sorry, that was… I just meant, I’m going to be around for a week and I thought it might be nice to make some friends.”

Becca’s smile turned kind. “No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. It’s just… Bucky used to be a terrible flirt before he joined the Army. Since he got back... well. I haven’t seen him show interest in anyone, until today. He’s really good with our guests, but he never lets down his guard around them.”

“I, um, I noticed that. It’s like he’s on stage giving a performance.”

“Exactly.” Becca studied him for a moment and Steve tried not to squirm under her sharp, thoughtful gaze. He got the feeling Bucky wasn’t the only Barnes sibling who knew his identity. 

And then the other part of what Becca had said sunk in; until today. 

Becca caught his change in expression and she nodded. “So, I hope you understand what I mean when I say that if I tried to warn you off, I’m pretty sure I’d end up walking the proverbial plank.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and blushed some more. “Thank you?”

Becca pressed her lips together, looking like she was trying hard not to laugh again. “Oh, and look, here he comes to rescue you.”

Steve looked up to see Bucky, concerned look on his face, a few steps away. His tone was light, though. “Becca, I thought we agreed that if we’re going to share embarrassing stories about our childhood, there has to be at least one large bottle of alcohol involved.”

Steve wanted Bucky to know that everything was okay, so he said, “Actually, I was going to tell Becca some of my embarrassing childhood stories.”

That stopped Bucky short. “I can’t decide if I need a bottle of alcohol or a tape recorder for that.”

Becca was enjoying her brother’s reaction a little too much, though Steve admitted to himself that a flustered Bucky was especially attractive. “Okay, you two,” Becca clapped her hands once and stood. “You can trade stories over drinks later,” and she gave Bucky a pointed look, which he rolled his eyes at but then glanced almost shyly at Steve. “Right now, I need the sails stowed. Steve, would you give Bucky a hand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

That made Becca grin. “You can crew with me any day.” And then her grin turned mischievous as she added, “Just as long as you remember who’s captain around here.”

Steve’s jaw dropped open as Becca started gathering up the rest of the group, leaving him dumbfounded in her wake. And then jumped when Bucky said, “You okay there, Steve?” Oh, and he was definitely laughing, even if the only evidence of that fact was the way Bucky’s eyes crinkled up at the corners.

“Your sister, she?” Steve couldn’t finish the sentence and it sounded like a question and he was Captain fucking America so why did he keep letting the Barnes siblings get the drop on him?

Bucky sighed heavily. “I know. She’s impossible.” There was a fond tone in his voice and Steve wished Bucky would talk that way about him. “You know, she’s pretty fierce. When she decides to adopt someone, she gets really protective.”

“I think I’m a little too old to be adopted, Buck.” The nickname slipped out and Steve almost apologized, except that Bucky was looking all soft at him.

“Hmm. We’ll see about that.” Bucky jerked his head toward the bow of the ship. “Come help me?”

They stowed the sails, working easily together, while the rest of the group clustered in the stern of the boat. Becca was talking about how the water might get a little bit choppy; they were switching over to the engine, so they might also get splashed with a small wave or two.

Steve, still standing toward the front of the ship, recognized the entrance to the channel and was surprised to feel sadness that the sailing cruise was almost over. He wondered if it would be weird to ask if he could go again tomorrow. 

The wind picked up and Steve could feel the boat dip into some bigger waves, just as Becca had predicted. He hadn’t been cold, but once the spray from waves hit him, so did the chill. It was cold and Steve desperately wished for another layer of clothing. 

He gripped the rail tighter as the little ship fell into a wave trough. It was fine. He knew it was fine. He hardly ever got vertigo, the serum taking care of any balance issues, but he wasn’t a fan of these waves. Waves of cold water, waves of dizziness, a falling ship...

He thought he heard Bucky say his name and then the ship dipped into another trough.

Steve clung to the railing as the cold wave splashed up and over the bow, right into his face. The water felt like tiny shards of ice and the boat dipped down and Steve was suddenly back on the _Valkyrie_ as the plane hit the water and he slipped under the ice as everything went white.

He came to a few seconds or years later, eyes closed but a solid wall of warmth behind him and a low voice in his ear saying his name for what he knew wasn’t the first time.

“Steve? You with me? You’re safe, Steve. You’re on a schooner, in Maine. It’s 2015. I swear to you, you’re safe and you’re here.” 

His voice croaked, still half frozen. “Bucky?”

“That’s right, pal. I’m right here. Why don’t you take a deep breath with me?”

Steve felt Bucky take a deep breath and he felt compelled to follow along, filling his lungs once, then twice. 

“That’s it. You got it. Plenty of air here, so breath it in.” 

“‘m on a boat?”

“Yeah.” There was a hesitant pause. “Not a plane. We hit a few waves there, but I promise you, the boat is safe and we’re not sinking.”

Steve still couldn’t open his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his brain he tucked away the fact that Bucky knew exactly where his mind was. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah, pal, I know. The water is cold as fuck right now, but you’re not in it. Open your eyes, Steve. I swear, there’s not a bit of ice in sight.”

He gripped the railing tighter, still afraid. Another part of his brain was screaming an alert that he was going to dent the metal if he kept up the pressure. He didn’t want to do that. Becca had been nice to him; he didn’t want to ruin her boat.

“Hey, Steve, why don’t you hold on to me?”

“‘S’okay. Just need a second.” But Steve swayed away from the railing and closer to the warmth behind him. Bucky snorted and something about the sound comforted him.

“Yeah, okay, you’re a tough guy. But I’d rather you hang onto me on the off chance you decide to pull a Rose and try to climb over the railing.”

Steve’s eidetic memory prodded him with a line from a movie Sam and Clint had made him sit through. “Does that make you Jack?” He thought his voice sounded a bit stronger that time.

He got a breathless laugh in return. “That’s right and I promise I’m not going to let go. C’mon, Stevie, I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Maybe it was the sincerity in Bucky’s voice or maybe it was the nickname that made Steve believe. He held on hand out to his side and felt a warm hand slide into it. He clung to the hand like a lifeline, even though he was careful not to squeeze too hard.

Bucky chuckled low, sending a ripple of sensation that kicked low and hot in Steve’s gut. “Okay, punk, fine. Try this hand if it makes you feel better.”

Steve felt the metal hand from Bucky’s prosthetic arm curl around his other hand, still on the railing. He turned his palm up and held on, relaxing a little more into the other man’s hold, trusting him.

“I’ve got you,” Bucky said again. “Why don’t you take another breath with me? C’mon, don’t be stubborn.”

“How do you know me so well already?”

“Oh, I had you pegged as a recalcitrant asshole from the start.”

Steve tried to laugh. “Jerk. I’ll have you know, I’m a paragon of American exceptionalism.”

That got a stronger laugh. “Does anyone else know that you are actually a little shit?”

Steve let his head rest back against Bucky’s shoulder, just for a second. “A couple of them have figured it out.”

“I think I feel honored to be included in that group.” Bucky loosened his grip on Steve’s right hand and used his left hand to pull him around so they were facing each other with Steve sitting back on the rail. “How you doing, pal?”

“Been better. Been worse, too.”

“Take all the time you need.” Steve dropped his head forward and felt Bucky’s hand gently grip the back of his neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Steve nodded, hoping that Bucky could tell he meant to convey thanks. “Don’t want the others to see.”

“Becca’s got ‘em fascinated by something. She’s seen this enough, she knows what to do.”

Steve relaxed a little more into the hand on his neck. “You get a lot of previously frozen super soldiers on your cruise?”

Bucky snorted again. “No. But she’s used to dealing with my PTSD.”

Steve’s eyes flew up and Bucky nodded. “Lost the arm when our convoy ran over some IEDs in Afghanistan. I’m dealing with it, mostly, but trust me, pal, I know flashbacks and panic attacks.”

“Huh. So that’s really what this is.”

“Shit, is this the first time you’ve had one?”

Steve flushed. “No, I just… Sam keeps telling me that’s what they are and I keep ignoring him. Fuck. Now I have to tell Sam he was right.”

Steve felt Bucky hesitate, but all he said was. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step, you know.” 

“Yeah, but Sam’s gonna be all smug about it and he’s going to tell Nat,” Steve knew he sounded petulant. Sam would be thrilled at Steve’s breakthrough, but he was also going to get a little cocky over it.

The hand on his neck started to move away, but Steve chased it, shoving his head against Bucky’s palm like a cat. He knew he was out of it, but he hadn’t felt this safe in years. Bucky hesitated, then his hand ghosted over Steve’s head and rested back on his neck.

“I’m sure Sam won’t talk to Nat if you ask him not to.” Bucky still sounded like he was pulling away. 

“He won’t have to. She’ll just know and then she’ll make him talk. It’s kinda what she does.” He could feel it when the realization clicked in Bucky’s mind that Steve’s friends were Avengers. “Yeah, this is what happens when you have superheroes for friends.”

“Are they worried about you, Stevie, or are they worried about Captain America?”

Bucky asked the question so softly Steve wouldn’t have heard it if not for his enhanced hearing. There was a tone in the question that made him look up, one that Steve could have sworn threatened bodily harm to someone if Bucky didn’t like Steve’s answer. 

And Steve realized that he had someone on his side. Someone thinking only of him, not about Cap. And, oh. Oh. The look on Bucky’s face kindled a heat that melted away any last thought of the ice from Steve’s brain.

“They’re good friends. Family, really. But yeah, the Cap thing is always there.” And now it was Steve’s turn to hesitate. He wasn’t sure how to do this, how to indicate interest in this new world. Even though people were more open, he still felt the burden of either assumption or expectation from, well, everyone. 

Really, jumping out of a plane without a parachute was easier.

“So, um, for the record,” he said, looking up through his eyelashes, which had always, always worked for him, “they’re just friends.” Bucky looked a little confused, so he tried again. “Sam and Nat. Both. Either. I like them both, but they’re just friends.”

He bit his lower lip as he waited for Bucky’s reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.

Bucky’s thumb moved in a gentle circle over Steve’s skin, even as he tried not to grin. “That is a valuable piece of intel.”

“I trust you.” Steve put every bit of sincerity he had into those words.

And, oh wow. The grin turned into a full-blown smile and Steve swayed toward it, helpless to resist. Then the grin faltered for a second as Bucky dropped his chin and Steve felt a different kind of panic. 

“Since we’re trading intel… You should know sailing isn’t my day job. I’m only here for the summer helping Becca because her husband broke his leg.” Bucky took a deep breath as Steve held his. “I’m a history teacher; I teach American history to high school students.”  
Oh. Well, that explained a thing or two, Steve thought.

“I, uh, also wrote a series of articles on American heroes.” And Steve tried not to show his wince. Bucky continued, “Mostly it was about how the stories we tell about these people aren’t usually the whole story.”

Steve nodded. Pepper’s public relations team had collected a whole stack of books and papers for him to read so that he would know what public perception of him was, then and now. And he remembered this one, by James Barnes. His premise was that the Captain America image was created for propaganda, and that the person behind the shield was a person not a paragon, and while Cap might be a hero, no one really knew the real Steve Rogers.

“You weren’t wrong,” Steve managed to say.

“I was, though. Most of the people I write about aren’t all that and a bag of chips. You are.”

Steve’s mouth twitched. “Are you calling me a sack of potatoes?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You know Titanic and you don’t know 90s slang? Who is introducing you to pop culture?”

“I keep ignoring the educational list I was given.”

“Okay, so I wasn’t wrong,” Bucky said. “You are a recalcitrant asshole.” He hesitated. “My point is, you are more than the two-dimensional caricature from the history books. And I’m really glad I got to know you, Stevie.”

Steve studied Bucky. He’d known exactly who Steve was the whole time and had treated him like, well, like Steve Rogers instead of Captain America. Even during his panic attack, when other people might have been turned off by the thought of the Cap losing it. 

“You know, Buck, I was, um, kinda hoping I could come back and do this again tomorrow.”

Bucky snorted. “Gonna try your luck again on how long it takes someone to recognize you with that ridiculous hat and beard disguise?”

Steve pouted, which made Bucky laugh, and that made Steve a little lightheaded. Whatever this was going to be, he wanted it.

“What are you doing after this?” Bucky asked.

Steve, once again conscious of the fact that there were other people around, including Bucky’s sister, barely managed not to say Hopefully, you. Instead, he said, “I was going to grab dinner at the place by the bridge.”

“You want some company?” 

Steve grinned and was rewarded when Bucky’s eyes darkened. “I would love the company if it’s yours.”

Becca called Bucky’s name. He nodded at Steve as he took a small step back, then waggled a finger to point between the two of them. “Just so we’re clear, this is a date, right?”

“Oh, fuck yes.”

Bucky laughed and Steve felt the rest of the fog and fear fall away. He watched Bucky turn and start to walk away, then watched him turn back, an expression Steve couldn’t decipher yet on his face. 

“One more thing,” Bucky said, giving the words enough weight that Steve knew to pay attention to what was about to happen. “I don’t live in Maine.” 

Steve knew, then, because he didn’t think he could get enough of Bucky in just one week either. But he asked anyway, the question ripe with delicious anticipation. “Where do you live the rest of the year?” 

Oh, and he could definitely get used to seeing that smile every day, Steve thought as Bucky answered, “Brooklyn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming with me on this three-chapter cruise. I hope you had as much fun as I did. I also hope you'll forgive me for setting a whole fic to some easy listening yacht rock inspiration. It happens, from time to time. And a shout-out to Bailey's Island, Maine, where the Schooner Alert (definitely not crewed by the Barnes siblings) offers amazing cruises to visitors; that's how I know all the lines have to be pulled at the same speed when you raise the sails, even if I've forgotten most of the sailing lingo they taught us.

**Author's Note:**

> Why, yes, I did base an entire story on an epic soft rock song. It's a gift. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. The story is done, with the exception of a tiny bit of fiddling, so I'll post a chapter a day (mostly so I'll stop fiddling. The world is burning and we have quite enough of fiddling right now.)


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